A little note from Cecil Kain Cerberus: When I started Meaningless Existence, I wanted this story to be the best Dissidia story ever. Ambitious goal, unaccomplishable, yet it doesn't stop me from trying. That's what dreams are for, anyway ;)

But as I looked at stories written by others, like ObsessiveCompulsive-Valkyrie and Poisonberries, I thought . . . "Gee, what am I doing in a room full of professionals? Who am I kidding? There's no way I can get to their level."

Well, you can guess what happened next. I'm still here, aren't I? So, after reading The Door of Souls by Poisonberries (wonderful fic, in my humble opinion), I was inspired to write better. Several shows and novels helped me form the proper path I needed to take for this story. Instead of remaking Meaningless Existence, I simply rewrote the chapters and then worked from there. I just hope this works better than in my head -_-'

Title: Meaningless Existence

Author: Cecil Kain Cerberus

Characters (central focus): Warrior of Light, Lightning, Kain Highwind, Prishe, Vaan, Terra Branford, Bartz Klauser, Yuna, Tidus, Tifa Lockhart, Cloud Strife, Laguna Loire

Rating: M, for blood, gore, sexual themes and hints, and violence.

Warnings for the reader: Spoilers. Lots of them. You've been warned. Also the rating should be a tall-tell sign.

Setting: After cycle 013 and Cid's nightmare, Final Fantasy 1, II, III, V, VI, VII Advent Children, VIII, IX, X-2 International, XII, XIII, during Final Fantasy IV Interlude, beginning before XIII-2 and Dirge of Cerberus.

Summary: The Warrior of Light has no past, no name or home to call his own. His origins are a mystery to him, yet he would not allow such trivial things get in his way to fight for the Light. Now, however, with Chaos gone, he finds himself thinking too much, questioning things too deeply. So when a beast attacks Cornelia, he welcomes the distraction as a salvation from himself, a purpose given to him again. Unfortunately for him, though, this new path will lead him and his comrades into a world full of chaos and madness. A world which no one can return from.

Length: If everything goes according to plan (which may not happen), let's say between 20 to 25 chapters. If not, we shoot for 12 to 50.

Genre: Horror, Action, Adventure, (Final) Fantasy, with some romance on top.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Square-Enix does. But if I did . . . well, let's just say some people would lose their sanity, while others would . . . erm . . . yeah.

-::Meaningless Existence::-

-:Prologue – Madness:-

"mad·ness / ˈmadnəs/
n.

1. State of being mentally ill; insane

2. Senseless folly; extremely foolish behavior

3. Frenzy; rage.

4. Intense excitement or enthusiasm"

- combined definition of madness

Madness. Insanity. Senselessness. Lunacy. Psychosis.

A compulsion of no logic, an obsession that consumes without reason.

Repetitive actions with no ending, no meaning, no truth.

Chaos, destruction, death.

Is this madness?

A denial of truth?

A renegade of existence?

No.

It doesn't matter what madness is.

It just is.

It exists.

Just as we all do.

And it will disappear.

Just like us.

What is truth?

What is existence?

Does it matter?

Why does it matter?

We are born, and then die.

Why bother with trivial things?

Why think?

Why feel?

Why exist?

Chaos is all around us.

Madness lives in us.

We are everything, yet we are nothing.

Devil, God, Monster, Hero.

All pointless names. What do they mean?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

It is pointless.

Everything is pointless.

Pain, memories, love, hate.

Nothing matters.

Just is.

Exist.

Erase.

Reborn.

Kill again.

Madness.

Nothing but madness.

The earth gave a mighty rumble. The volcanos roared, hot lava boiling over the rims, with ashen-filled smoke cloaking the burning, red sky like giant, black wings.

The beast had no more time. No more strength. Its limbs were falling apart, rotten flesh tearing as black blood pooled onto the terrain under its clawed feet. Bones melted, muscles torn, everything falling apart. Scales lacking of luster, horns broken and bent, wings collapsed.

It was nearing the end of its life.

Soon it would be no more.

And yet the Warrior of Light, a noble knight that feared no one and gallantly faced any foe, wielding only a sword and shield, could only watch in an amalgam of emotions, sensing both the numbness of skepticism and the freeing sensation of respite.

It was over.

Chaos had been defeated.

Life, existence, the future.

It was all saved.

The nameless man with no home had done the impossible with the aid of his comrades. Traveling to the past, 2000 years ago, seeking out the monster known as Chaos, once a knight named Garland of Cornelia, the start of their adventures together.

As Chaos faded, the last of its molecules scattering like sand in the wind, the Warrior's body felt unfamiliar all of a sudden. It was hard to describe, as he followed his friends back through the wormhole that had brought them to this unforgiving time. This feeling was new, foreign, and it puzzled the Warrior, even as their memories were cleared, the defeat of Chaos fading, only vapor drifting liberally through the currents of time.

The Warrior and his comrades stood where he had first begun his journey, an emerald hill rolling gracefully down to the magnificent Castle Cornelia, gay noises echoing from the town under its massive shadow. It was as if the conflict had never happened. No longer were they under any threat of attack, no longer was the world oppressed by fiends of nature.

The four turned to each other. It was time to bind farewell. Even though their memories were gone, details vanished, the writing was still there, erased but embedded into the parchment. They would not forget that feeling of victory. The dawn that appeared moments after the Tyrant of Darkness fell.

Yes, that feeling was still in the Warrior's chest as he watched his fellow warriors depart. That familiar sense of amity, one he had promised to an ally some time ago, in a distance world, to never forget.

Yet, as he felt this sensation, he also felt that strange sense.

No, it was not foreboding.

More along the lines of . . . dissatisfaction?

No, that wasn't quite right. As he walked down the hill, returning to Cornelia to begin anew, he pondered over such a feeling.

It was not disappointment; no, he was pleased over their victory over the darkness.

It was not fear, for he knew there would be no more darkness to harm the innocents here in this peaceful sanctum.

Whatever this feeling was, it wasn't pleasant. Perhaps this feeling would leave him once he reached the castle. Perhaps something novel would release him from this.

A new beginning, a new millennium was upon him. He should be feeling the fruits of victory in his heart, the battle cries of war fading like a distant memory, a wave long since crashed upon the shore, washing away the footprints left behind.

But nay, he could not. For something ached deep within him, a feeling he could not yet fathom nor comprehend. And as he stood before the great castle walls, pillars made of marble and limestone towering before him, the feeling persisted, gnawing on his very soul.

However, the feelings he sensed were something of common nature among man.

A man who exists will stare upon the stars and make a wish.

A wish for something more.

Man consumes all, yet is never satisfied.

He will watch his comrades die, yet he will find new ones.

And still wish upon that lonely star in the sky.

Praying for something beyond the plain he stands in, pleading for a change to take him.

He seeks knowledge, desiring to learn more.

He will question everything, deny everything, and yet accept everything.

He will love life, and yet willingly take life away.

He wishes for safety, and yet calls for fatal adventure.

A hypocrite.

That is what man is.

It is in his nature.

Question everything, wish for everything, hate everything.

And never see the truth that is set before him.